


De Novo Incipare

by Kerowyn202



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Adoribull Holiday Exchange, Attraction, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerowyn202/pseuds/Kerowyn202
Summary: A long trek up the Frostbacks has finally lead Dorian to Haven. Unfortunately, the locals and Inquisition look less favorably on a Tevinter refugee than he had expected.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32
Collections: Adoribull Holiday Gift Exchange 2020!





	De Novo Incipare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arsenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/gifts).



> For Arsenic. Thank you for the prompt that got me writing for the first time in over five years. 
> 
> And thank you, Munchy, for organizing this and for pushing me to enter the Holiday exchange!

If asked, Dorian would say that he went everywhere in style. He would say that he had ridden up to the ramshackle pen that was apparently Haven’s version of a stable on a fearsome dracolisk, catching the eye of all those around him while they practically glowed green with envy. In reality, he had walked the incredibly long trail up into the Frostbacks on his own two feet, and the only thing causing a green glow in the faces of those outside the gates was the Breach thundering nauseatingly above them. He certainly did attract looks as he walked past rows of soldiers practicing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several in Templar armor watching him as he walked. It made sense, his staff was strapped to his back, within easy reach in case he had found any trouble on the road. 

As he passed the Templars and came in sight of the gates, his heart stuttered. An enormous Qunari was standing in front of a tent, clearly in a position to watch anyone who tried to enter Haven. The creature was the largest he’d seen - and he had seen many in the summer raids in Qarinus - and by far the most muscular. 

“If you see one, walk the other way slowly. They’re looking for warriors, not for children. They’re dumb beasts, and you can lose them in the alleyways. Find me or your mother if you can.” 

His father’s warning echoed through Dorian’s head. After all, he’d heard it every summer growing up.It had been hammered into his head during the family’s time in Qarinus before they retreated inland until raiding season passed. Well, he’d never exactly been good at listening to his father. 

Breaking out his best court affect, he strode up toward the gates, not sparing the Qunari a second glance, chin held high and his stride purposeful. 

“Hey, ‘Vint,” said a deep, but surprisingly soft voice. Dorian glanced over and found himself faced with a wall of gray muscle. He made a valiant effort not to trace the tendon’s up the Qunari’s neck as he raised his gaze to meet the creature’s pale eye. He wasn’t very successful, but the effort was made. 

“Ah, a Qunari gate guard. How original,” he said in his best bored tone. 

“Ah, a stuck up Altus. How original,” said the man standing next to the Qunari. There was no mistaking that accent, but he seemed too proud sounding for a Liberati. Must be a Soparati. The man shook his head, his - admittedly handsome - lip curling in disgust. “This one’s on you, Chief. I’ve had enough dealings with Altus for a lifetime.” 

The warrior Tevinter walked away - giving Dorian a glorious view of a shapely rear as he went - leaving the mage alone with the Qunari. He made a big show of looking Dorian up and down before he jerked his head toward the gates. “C’mon. Boss thought you might show up. She got you a bed in one of the cabins.”

“Oh good, no more camping,” said Dorian with a glance behind the Qunari at the tent. He’d had quite enough of that in his two years since fleeing Tevinter, that was sure. He hoisted his pack over his shoulder and made to follow the Qunari when he froze. “Wait, how do you know who I am? There are quite a lot more of my countrymen down South than there usually are.”

To Dorian’s shock and surprise,, his comment actually got a chuckle as the Qunari looked over his shoulder at him. “I believe the Boss’s words were, ‘Keep an eye out for one with an unusually sharp mustache who thinks he’s the smartest person around.’”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he followed the Qunari through the gate. He kept as much space between them as he could get away with. He could see the muscle in those arms. Even if he was in supreme physical condition for a mage, those hands could break his neck far too easily for Dorian’s liking. “Pretty quick for a Qunari gate guard to get all that from a look and a word.”

“The Iron Bull.”

“What, is that the name of the tavern?” said Dorian, glancing at the building to their left. A bard could be heard singing faintly from inside.

That deep chuckle again. “No, that’s my name. With the article, mind you. But it’s kind of my job to know things. And be some muscle by the gate.” 

They passed the bald elf who had been with the Herald in Redcliffe. He was staring up at the Breach, oblivious to everything around him. How it was possible to miss anyone of Dorian’s looks or as large as the brute next to him, he didn’t know, but somehow the elf managed. The Iron Bull stopped at the hut across from where the elf stood and gestured at the door. “There’s an empty bunk in there. No privacy, but it’ll be warmer than the tents outside. You’re gonna want to head that way to the Chantry when you put your bag down. Boss is having a meeting about what to do about the magister.”

Dorian didn’t bother shutting the door behind him. He slung his pack onto a cot that still had the linen folded neatly and shucked off his white travel cloak. Draping it over his pack in a way that wouldn’t wrinkle - at least, not anymore than it already was - he froze as the Qunari spoke again. 

“Oh, and if you’re gonna stick around, you should know I’m still a Qunari.” The emphasis left no question that The Iron Bull meant the religion, not the race. “Ben-Hassrath to be specific. But I’m only here to stop the breach, just like you. Long as we’re both fighting against the demons, I’ve got no quarrel with you.”

The snow crunched as the Qunari walked away. Dorian straightened up slowly, his mind quiet in the way it usually was in the seconds before a battle. A self-proclaimed Ben-Hassrath, here? What kind of trick was this? Some test from the Herald to see how loyal Dorian truly was? He shook his head. The Game could wait. Alexius, however, quite literally had all the time in the world and that meant he could not.

Straightening his shoulders, he headed out the door towards the Chantry. There was no sign of the Qunari, thankfully. He had a meeting to interrupt.

****************************

Herald Lavellan had decided that they would leave tomorrow at midday for Redcliffe, giving those who had been at Haven for longer a chance to pack and giving Dorian a chance to rest after his long journey into the mountains. He couldn’t say he was pleased about having to make the trek down the mountains again so soon, but Alexius was better dealt with swiftly. Dorian watched as the advisors filtered from the room. He was able to catch the Herald’s eye as she stepped towards the door.

“Herald, a word, if I may,” he said, arms folded in front of his chest. He raised his chin as if he was granting her a favor and not the other way around. Dorian found it was the best way to ensure he was listened to. Lavellan stopped. The spy, Leliana, did as well until Levellan nodded to indicate she should go on. Dorian appreciated the discretion, although he doubted anything in Haven happened without the spymaster having full knowledge of it. 

“The Iron Bull, that Qunari brute, was the one to show me to my accommodations earlier,” Dorian began. The Herald’s vallaslin crinkled at the insult, but she didn’t interrupt him. “He happened to mention that he was a Ben-Hassrath agent. You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Lavellan crossed her arms, mirroring his posture almost exactly. “You really think I don’t know those whom I’ve invited under this banner?” She asked. The Herald took a step closer and placed a hand on his leather pauldron before she continued.

“Trust my judgement. After all, it would be fair for him to say the same about you, wouldn’t it? A Tevinter mage who seems to have all the answers we need exactly when we need them?” She raised an eyebrow at him and removed her hand. ”Dorian, Bull is just as much a part of this as you are welcome to be. You don’t have to be his best friend, but I need you two at least able to work together in Redcliffe tomorrow. I’m from the Free Marches. I’ve seen Qunari. Bull’s different. Even if you don’t trust him, trust me.”

Dorian had never been one to have a weakness for the fairer sex, but something in her eyes spoke of her sincerity in this moment and he couldn’t find it in himself to speak against her. 

“As you say, Herald,” He gestured towards the door of the War Room. “After you.”

****************************

Dorian pushed open the doors to the Chantry and stood while his eyes adjusted to the evening light. He could feel the goosebumps form on his left arm, the leather straps doing nothing against the cold. Even Tevinter winter garb wasn’t suited to the Frostbacks. Ah, well, he could hopefully pick up something not wholly horrendous in Redcliffe tomorrow, assuming everything went well with their negotiations with Alexius. 

It was relatively quiet outside the Chantry. The only people were those milling about what appeared to be the Quartermaster’s tent.. A quick glance showed him that he was already receiving glares from those gathered there. It apparently didn’t take long for news to spread of the “Evil Tevinter Magister” arriving. 

Chin held high, he made his way down the same path he had walked before, passing by the hut with his cot and heading to the tavern he had noticed on his way in. It was early enough in the night, he should be able to grab a bite to eat and a drink before people became inebriated enough to start trouble with him. 

The dimly lit tavern was far more crowded than Dorian had expected. Apparently the Inquisition soldiers had finished their training for the day. Many had come here to warm up and part with their coin. The Qunari - The Iron Bull, Dorian corrected himself - from earlier was there. Despite the crowd, he couldn’t be missed. He was a good head taller than everyone else, even discounting the horns. He was leaning casually against the bar with his back to Dorian, flirting with a barmaid who was blushing as red as her hair. Dorian paused a moment, his eyes glued to the expanse of gray skin. He couldn’t help himself. He’d seen his fair share of beautiful men in Tevinter, but they were nothing like the man here. The Bull didn’t qualify as beautiful, certainly, not with the scars decorating his back. But Dorian was almost mesmerized by the way The Bull’s muscles flexed and caused those scars to shift as he leaned back, laughing at something the woman had said.

Shaking his head, Dorian started towards the opposite end of the bar. Before he could reach it, however, his way was blocked by several soldiers. The redness of their eyes betrayed their current state of inebriation, but they weren’t yet at the point of being unsteady on their feet. 

“Don’t think we don’t see through you, ‘Vint,” the unofficial ringleader started. He took a step towards Dorian. For his part, Dorian moved only to lift one eyebrow delicately.

“Funny, I didn’t use any spells that make me invisible.” He couldn’t help it. His wit had always gotten him into trouble back in the Tevinter circles he had attended, and it looked like Dorian would get into the same trouble here in the South. Still, perhaps it could be salvaged. “Gentlemen, I’m only here for some food and drink. I’m not going to cause any trouble.”

“You think we believe that from a stuck up ‘Vint? You’re probably one of them Venatori, you just hide it better than the others.” He was so close to Dorian now that he could smell the stale ale on the soldier’s breath. The soldier lowered his voice. Dorian made sure to still not react. “We know what you are. Don’t think we will forget.”

A shadow fell over them all.

“You know, sparring is usually reserved for daylight hours, but if you really want to go, I’ve got some time.” The Iron Bull’s posture was relaxed enough, with his arms crossed over his broad chest, but the glint in his eye was nothing to mess with. 

“Don’t give me that look!” said the ringleader, as he took a step back from Dorian. “It’s the magister here that’s causing trouble!”

“No trouble, I can tell I’m not wanted here,” Dorian pivoted on the spot and headed back to the door he had come in. The door shut behind him and he paused, listening for a moment to see if any of the soldiers were going to follow. He didn’t want an altercation, but he also wasn’t about to let them walk all over him. 

No footsteps followed and the door didn’t swing open. Letting out a breath, Dorian walked back to the hut, the snow crunching under his feet. He still had a small amount of travel rations; he could make due. 

“Hey, Dorian! Wait!” The Iron Bull jogged a few paces to catch up to him. How he had snuck out so quietly, Dorian didn’t know. “My boys, The Chargers, we’ve got a fire with some food outside Haven’s walls. Come sit with us for a bit, have a drink and something to eat. We’ve already got one ‘Vint, no one’ll mind a second.”

Dorian smiled tightly. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my own company for now.” 

“And walk all the way to Redcliffe on an empty stomach? C’mon, I only bite when asked.” He said. He flashed a toothy smile and his one eye closed, his face twisting strangely.

“Was that - are you trying to wink at me? You have to know that doesn’t work when you only have one eye.”

“If it didn’t work, how’d you know I winked?”

“Kaffas, fine. Lead the way.”

And so, for the first time since he had left Tevinter, he spent the evening surrounded with laughter rather than constant scorn. Perhaps his time in the Inquisition would be better than he had thought. And perhaps, Qunari were not as bad as his father had made them out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a very long time, so if you see anything I could improve, please let me know.


End file.
